Moonlight
by scratchrabbit
Summary: Dart reflects on the past, future and present.


Moonlight - A legend of Dragoon fan fiction  
  
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I, in no way own Legend of Dragoon or any of the characters blah blah blah  
  
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Why did it all have to be so complicated?  
  
Why did the world have to move so fast, why did everything start happening all at once.. like some sort of horrible chain reaction.  
  
There had to be an explanation.  
  
And explanation other then fate.  
  
He was growing sick of that word; fate.  
  
It passed the lips of one of his companions at least once a day. In mirth, sorrow or laughter.  
  
Almost a silent joke; as if they all knew they were being led into something much bigger and more terrifying then just living or dying.  
  
And it was even more terrifying to think that..it was all set.  
  
Everything was written down, carved in stone.  
  
Who would live, who would die.  
  
That no matter what they did, they couldn't escape it.  
  
It made a man feel..tiny, lost in the big picture.  
  
At least it made Dart feel that way.  
  
The young warrior looked up at the ceiling from where he lay, on a thin cot that bit into his back. The Inn they had chosen was not a fancy one, actually..it was a bit lower then they were accustomed to.  
  
But, the funds had been rather short lately.  
  
Ever since King Albert had taken over as Jade Dragoon, things seemed to have gotten a lot more complicated.  
  
The noble meant good, he was sure.  
  
Certainly not a replacement for..Lavitz.  
  
Albert was a good ruler, and a fair and gentle man. But the young king lacked in the worldly knowledge that his most trusted knight had been kin to, and was certainly not as familiar with the ways of the people outside his own country's border.  
  
Speaking of the king, he was lying on the cot next to Dart and beside Rose.  
  
Safely between the party's two strongest fighters, and blissfully unaware of the howling wind outside and the sharp nip of frost in the air. They had given him the best cot and blanket, even after he had requested to be treated like any other traveling companion.  
  
He was not, and despite the fact that Albert tried to be just 'one of the crew'..it wasn't happening. At least, not yet.  
  
Swinging his legs over the side of the cot, Dart pulled on his boots..though leaving his armor oiled and shining on top of a chair. Everyone else was asleep.  
  
It was just him and the moonlight.  
  
The moonlight that shone at day and night.  
  
The moon that never set.  
  
The one that had some connection to why he was on this accursed journey in the first place, to hunt the monster that had destroyed his village and the lives of his parents.  
  
The moon that had birthed the moonstone that Lavitz had died for.  
  
One could say, the moon and him were connected by fate.  
  
A wry smirk tugged at the corner of Dart's lips as he pulled his sword from his belt. The metal was cool, sleek and clean. It was a comforting weight in his hands, and as he walked out of the grungy Inn and a breeze swept the dark hair from his equally dark eyes.. he couldn't help but heft it into a practicing stance.  
  
The streets were empty aside from him and a rogue cat.  
  
The feline watched as he whirled, feinted then leapt forward to send the blade whistling through the air.  
  
Again.  
  
Again.  
  
Again.  
  
Until the leather sleeveless tunic he wore beneath his forgotten armor, was damp with sweat.. and clung to his heaving chest.  
  
Fighting was solid. Or at least it had been.  
  
Before becoming a dragoon, Dart would of gone mad if it hadn't been for the freedom and strength of being a travelling warrior.  
  
But now that this power had been discovered, and he no longer needed to practice late into the night until his muscles ached and legs threatened to drop beneath him..  
  
It felt good to do something physical. Something quite a bit more tangible, and easier to grasp then fate.  
  
Licking dry lips he sauntered back into the small one room Inn, dropping his sword-belt down onto the chair where his armor rested before falling down onto the uncomfortable cot.  
  
He was too tired now to think, to ponder about existence.  
  
His eyelids protested to being lifted, and he slipped easily into rest.  
  
The moon was still there, but at least he didn't have to think about it. 


End file.
